


Evolution

by Rochelle_Rochelle



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: BJJ, F/M, Joanlock - Freeform, Mutual Admiration, Nudity, Sex, Shower Sex, its all joanlock, not explicit explicit but close, of sorts, physical joanlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-08 01:30:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14094081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rochelle_Rochelle/pseuds/Rochelle_Rochelle
Summary: Thought it was about time for some not-platonic joanlock.I don't think I've strayed into explicit but give me a shout if you think I have.





	Evolution

The rooftop proved to be a less than ideal location. The afternoon sun, the heat and humidity inadvertently increased the difficulty of their task by tenfold. 

Joan grabbed at his sweat slicked biceps, her fingertips pressing deep into his taut muscles; she held on tight. Her body atop his held him firmly in place. 

With effort, Sherlock raised his head, straining to bring it closer to hers. His eyes fixed on a small bead of sweat perched precariously at the hollow of her neck. Scintillating like a diamond against her skin, the drop teetered hesitantly before racing downward and trickling between her breasts. He ached with the need to follow the tiny rivulet, to dive into the depth of her bosom and lose himself within. 

He gyrated beneath her and Joan shuddered at the almost intimate contact, her grip on him loosening ever so. Angry at herself for losing focus, she grunted and pushed down harder on him. Sherlock, jarred back into the moment, responded by pushing back and tilting his shoulders. 

Out of nowhere, his legs forced themselves between her torso and his. With a twist and a flick, their positions reversed and she was pinned, her shoulders flat to the mat, his body pressed down on hers to confirm victory. She wriggled and struggled to no avail.

As she stilled, his head fell to her chest; her hands clutched at his back. Mouths open as they tried to catch their breaths, they lay, reveling in the rare moment of close physical contact before they returned to being Watson and Holmes. Joan eventually gave him a pat on the shoulder and he raised his head. She nodded at him and Sherlock peeled himself off her, moving to his knees and sitting back on his legs. His eyes rolled over her prone form: her tank top and tight shorts marked with the stains of their exertions, her pony tail askew, strands of wet hair clinging to her beet red face.

He took a breath and extended his hand to help her up. She shook her head and swiped at her face in frustration, "I am never going to get this right, am I?"

"You are," Sherlock grimaced in lieu of a smile, "You have only been at this for a relatively short period of time. Brazilian Jujitsu is an art. It takes time to master." He stood up and once more extended his hand to her. "You did well." 

She accepted his hand and allowed him to pull her up. "I should have done better."

Joan rotated her shoulders, twisted at the waist and bent forward and then back, stretching back and leg muscles sullenly. 

Sherlock took in each flex and ripple. Strong and lithe, her elasticity and athleticism made for an alluring sight. He looked away and attempted to push the thought down. Yanking off his black tank top, he roughly mopped his shoulders and chest with the garment before tossing it on the mat. "Come on. We'll feel better after we take a shower." 

The corner of her lip curled ever so at the thought, "You're not suggesting we shower together are you?" Abs and pectorals highlighted in the golden sunlight and etched by indigo shadows, his chest hairy and sweat-laced, made her rather prone to accede to anything he asked. 

"No, that was not my intention..." Sherlock took in her stance, the softness of her look, and realized she was feeling the same pull as he. "But since you mention it, why not? Sharing a shower would be economical and expedient." He took a step towards her, raising his eyebrows in query. 

She looked down affecting demureness in an attempt to stop herself from saying or doing something she might regret. "You go ahead. I'll take mine after you're done."

He shrugged disappointedly and walked away towards the door. 

 

Through the rush of water, he heard the bathroom door open and click as it closed. Sherlock stopped mid-lather and waited. 

The shower curtain was pulled aside just enough for her to step in. He took a step back to allow her room in front of the spraying water. With quick glances and blinks, both assiduously attempted to keep their eyes above the neck line. 

Hearts raced as they stood not knowing how to proceed. Mindless impulse had brought her here but now her brain was kicking in and so was panic. They were standing naked, together, in the shower - what now?

Sherlock saw the fear rising in her eyes and spoke up for fear she'd leave, "Water temperature acceptable?" He vaguely waved the soap he still held in his hand towards the shower nozzle.

"Yes, yes," she nodded. "Perfect." Warmth spread through her and the panic ebbed at the appearance of a tiny pleased smile upon his face and the shy, furtive nod that reminded her this was her friend, her friend that loved her and who she loved.

His soapy chest drew her attention and she stepped aside so that the water hitting at her back now sprayed on him. Her hand rose to his chest and helped swirl the water round to wash away the suds. 

The clunk of the soap against the tub floor made them both jump. 

He mumbled an embarrassed "Sorry," and stooped to pick it up, As he rose, he took in the vertical panorama of her body. Slowly, from the ankles up, he couldn't help but note and catalog every mound and curve, every inch of her bare skin. His heart pounded and his mouth dried as he finally reached her eyes, dark and sharp and doing their own cataloging it seemed. 

Her mouth flexed nervously in imitation of a smile and she turned to face the water attempting to wash away the telltale pink that rose to her cheeks. Joan picked up a washcloth, placed a good dollop of her Milk and Honey bodywash on it, and lathered. She was supposedly here to bathe after all. The familiar scent of the wash surrounded and soothed. She brought the cloth up one arm and across her neck and to her shoulder. 

Sherlock stood close behind her. His hand hovered until he found enough courage to lightly cup her shoulder. Meeting no objection, his thumb traced small circles against her skin. She relaxed under his caress and, so emboldened, he placed his other hand over hers and took the washcloth from her. 

With studied care, he scooped her hair and draped it over one shoulder. Sherlock drew the washcloth across her neck and shoulders, moving in slow massaging motions. He moved down her back and up again. Joan was melting back towards him, the sensation of his touch pulling her towards him. His hand came around to her front and the washcloth was abandoned and his fingertips moved to explore and caress. Her back was now pressed into him. His lips dropped to her shoulder as he took her breast in hand, brushing her nipple, then squeezing just enough to make her murmur his name. His lips moved to her neck, kissing her as the water continued to pour over them. Joan could feel his body reacting against hers.

She twisted her head round to find his face, her hand guiding him to her mouth open and waiting for him. The kiss sent shocks through his body reverberating through hers and spurred them to clasp and hold on, to stroke and grab in an explosion of passion. Skin gliding on wet skin, sweet touch allowed where eyes had never been, and behind it all the setting free into the light a love held in the dark for much too long, made them lightheaded and giddy. He pressed her up against the white tiled wall for some semblance of balance and she clung to him, her hand gripping his hair, urging him on.

Sherlock's hand shot away from her; he blindly reached for the handles and with several squeaky twists, turned the water off.

His wandering hand returned to her, threading fingers through her hair, while his kisses intensified. Joan gasped for air and Sherlock took the opportunity to throw open the shower curtain and reach for towels. Draping one on her head, he rubbed to dry her soaked hair. 

Joan looked dazed, unsure at what had just happened, why his body was no longer pressed to hers. "Why did you stop?" she whispered.

"Not stopped." He kissed her reassuringly. "Merely paused. Shower sex in a bathtub is tricky and best left for a later date when we are more fully comfortable with each other, hmm?" As he spoke he took another towel; rapturously, meticulously, he pushed, swiped and dabbed the terry cloth to her body. A long and lingering open mouth kiss laid between her breasts finished the process and he wrapped the towel round her. 

Emotion and desire surged through her at his gentle ministrations. He stood fully aroused before her, attempting to control his breathing, waiting for a sign from her. 

Joan took his hand and led him the short distance to her bedroom. She softly pushed him onto the bed and crawled over him. He watched as she removed the towel, placed one knee on either side of him and began the process that would have him yelping her name and begging her not to stop.

**Author's Note:**

> As may be evident I know nothing about BJJ except what I've seen in Jonny Lee Miller's instagrams


End file.
